Archive for the ‘Jason Fischer’ Category
Sonic
Thursday, February 19th, 2009
‘Take this. You’ll hear God,’ she said, and without pause he licked the bitter tab from her salty palm, then took another against her protests. And another.
Now she was saying something to him, but all he could hear was a metallic crashing sound every time she opened her lips, every syllable discordant, alien. It was just like a set of house keys thrown against a counter-top, and as she got agitated and clutched at his shoulders, shaking him, her voice became a hundred keys, a thousand.
Sonic, chronic Sonic, he thought, and tried to tell her that he was still off-tap, that rather than fading away, the audible hallucinations were getting stronger.
But even as his mouth moved, even as he formed the words, she looked at him, puzzled. He tried again, but whatever was coming out of his mouth made as much sense as what was coming into his ears.
We have our new Babel, he thought, and tried to pass on this wisdom with his stupid useless tongue.
Her Labrador was barking at him, yipping with excitement, but all that came out was the rolling laughter of a man. He pushed her aside, and nearly tripping over the leaping dog he got through the door and out into the night.
The squeal of the hinges was a wet licking sound, the door’s slam a phlegmatic cough. As he ran wildly along the sidewalk, feet pounding and sliding beneath him, each footstep was the ringing of a bicycle bell.
He went slower, but the ringing became drawn out, emphasised. If he ran, the rings were brisk, shrill. The lesser of two evils.
The cars went by, the city echoing with the snarling of these great cats. A zippy little hatch shot past with the yowling of a feral tom, while a fish-tailing muscle-car throbbed with a lion’s menace, an angry don’t-you-touch-my-kill warning roar.
Shortly after was an ambulance, the cacophony of its sirens the shrill cries of a terrified baby, and then two babies, and then more. It was time to get away from the roads.
The Sonic was stronger now, getting stronger by the second when the drug should have worn off hours ago. Had he taken too much?
Would he ever hear normal sounds again?
He already knew the answer.
Crying, driven to tears and madness (his own wretched sobbing translating into the sounds of breaking glass), he ran his bicycle-bell steps, stopping up his ears for all the good that did. After hours of this permanent disconnect from the world of rational sound, he went to the infamous Leap. These never-ending alien tongues drove him to the cliff’s edge, alone and trapped. Standing there, toe-tips on the edge of a steep eternity, a strong wind swept up to buffet him from the cold black sea.
He stood there in rapture as the roaring wind became clarity and language, and for the rest of his short life he had a direct and profound conversation with God.
END
Inventory
Wednesday, January 28th, 2009
You are standing at an existential crossroads, a wasteland at your feet and a song on your lips. Overhead, a trio of mechanical vultures have begun circling, and the red dots of their laser-sights are crawling across your bare chest.
To the west runs a dank near-motionless river, and every now and then something thrashes around in the water. The way east is blocked by an endless sense of ennui. South is a burning city, and an ex-wife to whom you owe alimony. To the north stretches an endless desert, with rumours of a herd of undead camels. There is a gleaming muscle-car parked here, but passage to it is blocked by an enormous white bull.
There is a set of tubular bells here, and a three-legged stool. There is a sign on the river bank.
Obvious exits are North, South, and Angst.
>READ SIGN
It says “Do Not Swim”
>GO SOUTH
Your wife’s divorce lawyer is eyeing you from the city outskirts. Are you sure?
>INVENTORY
You are carrying:
Compass
Pistol
Divorce Papers
3 Bullets
Your Sense of Self-Respect
Wet Towel
A Mid-Life Crisis
Toasted Cheese Sandwich
>GET INTO CAR
The bull paws at the ground and snorts. Are you sure?
>PLAY A SONG
I’m sorry, I can’t understand that command.
>PLAY TUBULAR BELLS
You hit at the bells. You haven’t been trained in the musical artistry of tubular bells, and the sound seems to anger the bull. You now regret torching the Tubular Bell Academy.
>SHOOT BULL
Your pistol is unloaded
>LOAD PISTOL
You try, only to discover that these are chocolate bullets.
>LOOK AT BULL
Blocking your passage to the muscle-car is an enormous albino bull. This powerful creature towers over you, with blood-stained horns and a piercing gaze that speaks of great intelligence. It is looking at you expectantly, but warily.
>GIVE SANDWICH TO BULL
It sniffs at your cheese sandwich with disgust.
>GET STOOL
You pick up the three-legged stool.
>SIT ON STOOL
You sit down on the stool and rest.
[STAMINA +3]
>MILK BULL
What are you, some kind of wise guy?
>READ DIVORCE PAPERS TO BULL
The wet towel has soaked everything in your pack! The papers are ruined.
>WRING OUT TOWEL
The towel is now dry, and should be safe to put in your pack.
>GIVE BULL YOUR SENSE OF SELF-RESPECT
The bull is satisfied with your offering, and leaps into the river to fight with the unseen water-creature. It’s an epic battle of the titans, and will likely go on for hours.
>GET INTO CAR
You open the driver’s door and climb in. It smells good.
>START CAR
The muscle-car roars into life, and the fuel gauge leaps to full. “Born to be Wild” is playing on the stereo.
>GO NORTH
You floor it.